


The Son of Godfrey

by Persephone



Category: Kingdom of Heaven (2005)
Genre: Crusades, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone/pseuds/Persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godfrey’s first-in-command sees Balian for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Son of Godfrey

_12th Century, Jerusalem. The Crusades._

He had heard his lord Godfrey had a son. And even before Godfrey left to find him, Almaric had decided that he would despise Balian. He did not know the details, nor did he care. All he knew was that the son was not the father.

It was no worthwhile man who grew into adulthood and did not seek out his own origins. It was no worthy man who caused Godfrey of Ibelin to depart his home in Jerusalem for a smear of godforsaken land because he did not have the judgment to bring himself hence.

For Godfrey’s sake he had vowed to tolerate Balian, the son. His vow had been made in the dark, on his back, in frustrated silence. It was not his place to voice an opinion on matters above him, with Ibelin above him. He was first lieutenant of the Baron of Ibelin, not Ibelin himself.

But then, neither was the son. And it burned his heart to make the vow to a man who was not Godfrey.

So, what was he, the son? Or, what would he be? He would be a child, most likely spoiled, appearing in a fabled kingdom riding high on processions and adulations rolled down from his father, claiming titles and honors he barely understood. It would be unbearable to witness; Godfrey larger than life, power and wisdom; the son, sniveling and stumbling, coarse and stupid. The son would diminish the father in the eyes of his enemies and friends alike. Not grasp the complexities of his station, the games that required playing in palaces and bedrooms. He would not grasp his own father.

To say he judged hastily and without knowledge would be to forget that there was nothing new under the sun, much less in the hearts of men. A son who waited for Ibelin to come was a son who waited for anything. He, as Godfrey’s first and head of his household, would be remiss in his duty if he did not anticipate the effect of this undeserving child upon the life his lord had so ruthlessly carved. Would be remiss if he did not see to the lessening of the son’s effect on the name Ibelin. So, painfully, had he come to terms when Godfrey, despite all his hopes, had set out to retrieve his son. So painfully had he prepared for the worst.

And then...

God in heaven must tire of men reaching terms, with themselves and their hopes, for who but He knew what course each man’s life must take? For of Godfrey he had neither heard from nor seen since his departure to France. But now here he stood himself, in a square like any other, in this rough city of heaven, beholding a sight like none above or below.

A young man, scraped and tattered and wounded, wandering through the crowds. Dark-haired and dark-skinned and also in darkness, dragging his purgatory as he passed. And all of Almaric’s fears took form before him. For the young man wore the livery of Ibelin, and this was Godfrey’s son.

It was worse than the worst. It was not stupidity or avarice the son brought with him, it was desolation.

At once Almaric decided. He would pretend he did not see him. After all, Godfrey was not with this young soul. His lord had not brought him to the compound, home with him. So it still might not be fact. There could still be a version of his life in which Godfrey's son had never been born. He would let him wander the streets of Jerusalem until he was waylaid, and robbed, and killed.

But attired as he was, such an occurrence would raise questions too dangerous to be answered without fear of repercussion. This Almeric knew.

And so he straightened from the wall of the wine shop and walked in a straight line through the crowds in the square to where Balian now sat on the ground, eating dates. 

The presence of the son was the thrill of his lord Godfrey.

And anger welled inside him. This was _not_ his lord.

But he reminded himself of his vow to be tolerant, and so repressed his loathing. His duty was clear: to get this man off the streets and into the compound of his heritage. 

But looking down at him, his foremost desire was even more than that, for word of his lord for whom his heart and his body still hopelessly ached.

Thus he moved forward, but not too close, and acknowledged the son.

~*~


End file.
